


Fervent Prayers

by Eruphadriel



Series: Muscle Memory [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 19:42:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4361789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eruphadriel/pseuds/Eruphadriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Young Cullen Rutherford has been assigned to oversee Carolyn Amell in Kinloch Hold. But the mage knows he watches her in other ways. Finally, the night before her Harrowing, knowing she may very well face death the following morning, Carolyn decides to confront Cullen about it. Seriously NSFW. 2,894 words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fervent Prayers

It was odd to walk through the musty library without the clatter of his armour to accompany every step. Cullen felt light without its weight. During the day, his Templar armour grounded him. The Chantry symbol that gleaned upon his breastplate gave him a foothold, a guide to who he was supposed to be, what he was supposed to do. What he was not supposed to do.

And being in the library so late at night with no reminders of his duties to steer him was definitely on the list of things Cullen was not supposed to do.

This was the fourth night he had awoken from the dreams. Cullen had taken to walking the Circle Tower until he forgot them. He could never really forget his dreams, though. The feelings could only subside with each step, footfalls muffled by carpet, desires quieted by time. But they never went away. Not while she slept yet a few doors down the corridor. Not while he watched her each day.

Maybe he should have found a training dummy and his sword. That way, at least, he could let off some of the heat that roiled within him. There was only so much one could do with one’s hands in a library. Cullen realized this as he ran his fingers over the cracked leather spines of the books. The cases were stuffed to bursting, the shelves creaking softly in the night, gasping for relief, for release –

He came across a thick tome with the Templar’s symbol on the spine. Cullen snatched it from the shelf and sat down at one of the tables. He pushed aside a few papers and books that crowded the tabletop. By the light of a single candle, Cullen threw open the book to a random page and began to read.

“O Maker, hear my cry:  
Guide me through the blackest nights  
Steel my heart against the temptations of the wicked  
Make me to rest in the warmest places.”

Cullen rubbed his forehead and flipped back a few hundred pages from Transfigurations. The curt, steady script of Threnodies 5:7 caught his eye.

“Then the Maker said:  
To you, my second-born, I grant this gift:  
In your heart shall burn  
An unquenchable flame”

Longing stirred deep in his chest, warm at the bottom of his belly. He swallowed hard and kept reading:

“All-consuming, and never satisfied.  
From the Fade I crafted you,  
And to the Fade you shall return  
Each night in dreams”

The Fade, in dreams, the only place they could meet, where her lips were soft and her plush body was yielding and tasted of magic and all that was forbidden to him.

“That you may always remem–”

“Cullen?”

His knee knocked hard against the table’s edge as he leapt up from his chair and spun around towards the voice. A strained question stopped dead in his throat. Had he been reading aloud? He found his answer in the smirk that lit her face.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Cullen accused hotly.

Carolyn swept into the library, warm light from the corridor silhouetting her full figure. She cocked her head to one side. A lazy ringlet of brown hair fell across her shoulder.

“Neither should you.” Her voice hardly reached a whisper, yet Cullen’s focus clung to each word.

As she spoke, Carolyn sauntered forward. With each step, he was sure she would stop short of running into him. Yet with each step closer, Cullen became less and less sure of her intentions. When at last she came to a stop, she stood an inch from him. Her hand reached around the Templar. Carolyn ran her fingers over the pages of the open book.

“The Canticle of Threnodies?” she exclaimed in disbelief. “Rather heavy reading for such a late hour.”

“Why are you here?” Cullen demanded.

She shrugged. “The same reason as you.”

Impossible, he thought, and, Please, let that be true. Cullen turned, slapped the book shut, and slid out from between her and the table. As he returned the book to its place on the dusty, dark shelf, Carolyn’s smooth voice cut through the cavernous silence.

“I heard you walk the halls last night, and the night before that. I was curious as to what you were doing. What kept you awake.”

Cullen wanted to lean his forehead against the shelf. Being around her… His mind jumbled at the very thought of her, and went absolutely blank in her presence. Being near Carolyn was like being unable to think.

“You were awake, too,” he said.

Her throaty chuckle echoed through the library. He shut his eyes at the sound.

“This game is getting old,” she declared. Her slippers whispered against the bare stone and softened when she came to the rug.

“You were the one who began it.” His voice broke, and he clenched his jaw at the sound.

“That doesn’t matter.” Warm hands slipped around his waist. He grabbed the edge of a shelf. Cullen could feel her words against his shoulder. “All I care about is how it’s going to end.”

“Are… Are we still talking about how I accuse you of something, then you accuse me of it, and the other way around?”

She only had to press his hip for him to turn. The bookshelves were hard against his back, but Carolyn was soft. Her fingers hooked through the belt loop on his trousers.

“Were we ever talking about that, Cullen?”

His heart pounded loud in his ears. She turned her face up and grazed her lips across his stubbly jaw.

“I’ve felt your gaze on me,” she murmured against his skin. Her fingers snuck beneath his tunic and ghosted across his hip bone. “I’ve caught you looking, then your eyes find the sky like you’re praying for the strength to stay away.” Her top lip brushed his bottom lip. “I’ve given up hope that prayer will keep me from you.”

Though he still gripped the shelves, muscles taut, mind reeling, Cullen leaned down. Carolyn kissed him, gentle at first. Almost innocent, if it weren’t for the magic that coursed through her veins. Fleeting seconds lengthened, agonizing. Carolyn drew him closer and deepened the kiss, catching his bottom lip between hers.

“Mmmno,” Cullen groaned at the touch of her tongue. He pulled away. “No.”

Carolyn came down from her tiptoes and leaned back from him, though her fingers remained tangled in his belt loops. Cullen couldn’t look at her. If he did, he would buckle under the temptation. Maker, guide me. He thought the words so vehemently he nearly whispered them.

“Cullen,” she breathed, and his name had never sounded so good, “I’m not going to force this. You know what I want. It’s up to you.”

Her words were so reasonable, yet her mouth twisted into a reproachful frown. Cullen couldn’t gather his thoughts around her. He couldn’t think. He could hardly breathe. He could only feel. Cullen said nothing. Carolyn nodded a little and took a step back.

'Maker, forgive me.'

His hands found her wide hips and he pulled her back. Carolyn’s gasp of surprise was cut off my his mouth, pressed hard and eager against hers. The mage’s hand cupped his rough cheek. Cullen found it surprisingly gentle for something that wrought magic. Carolyn could undo the very fabric of the world, but instead she chose to undo him.

Her fingers tangled in his sleep-tousled curls, sliding down the back of his neck and prompting him closer. Cullen could feel her warmth from beneath her robes. Such a thin barrier… He undid the first clasp, exposing the voluptuous curve of her breasts, skin dark and glossy in the candlelight. He bent to plant a kiss there, but Carolyn tipped his head up and nipped at the soft spot under his chin.

“Slow down,” she said in a growl as she trailed her lips down his throat.

The mage guided his hands slowly down the thick curves of her body, letting his palms skate across the mountains and dells of her being. And when he found her hips again, she let go and sunk to her knees.

Cullen let his head fall back against the books. “This is wrong.” The words came on a sign.

“Do you want to stop?” The question was sincere.

So was his answer. “Maker, no.”

Cullen swore he could feel her smile against him, her mouth hot even through the fabric of his trousers. His half-hard cock twitched between her gentle lips, and he stifled a moan as Carolyn took his bulge into her mouth. Deft hands worked loose the strings of his breeches. The mage eased them down to his knees and gave the front of his smalls an open-mouthed kiss, eyes fixed on his. He cupped the back of her head, fingers knotted in her brown locks, and let out a shaky breath as she tugged his smallclothes down along with his trousers.

Carolyn’s fingers drifted over his thighs, his muscles tight with anticipation. She waited until he gave the slightest of nods before she took his shaft in her hand and stroked it, slowly, steadily. Her touch was unfamiliar, though Cullen had long dreamt of it. Her gradual movements seemed stark in contrast to his own the night before. Desperate, shameful, wanting it to be over yet also for it never to end, he had cried out her name and the Maker’s in short succession, one for release and the other for forgiveness. Now it was all Cullen could do not to moan both in pleasure as Carolyn’s skilled hand picked up speed and her tongue flicked out over the head of his cock.

Her mouth sealed around his arousal, Carolyn’s head slowly bobbed as she sucked softly. She took him further into her mouth, then gradually withdrew, dragging her tongue deliberately, agonizingly up his shaft. Cullen gasped, the sound accompanied by the wet smack of her lips as she swirled her tongue around the tip. The mage leaned back, looking for his approval, her hand still pumping slow and hard.

“Yes?” she sought, thumb running over the head of his cock, slick with precum.

Cullen couldn’t find his voice with her hand still working. He swallowed hard and nodded. The Templar almost knocked the bookcase over when Carolyn took him nearly to the hilt. He couldn’t hold back his groan as she sucked harder. Hand clenched into a fist, he bit his knuckle as his hips bucked involuntarily. He swore he could hear footfalls somewhere close.

Carolyn’s arms snaked around his hips and pulled him closer. Cullen moaned into his fist thrust his hips, hard, once. Once was all it took.

The mage withdrew and sputtered, hands clinging to the hem of his tunic. She gulped visibly, head bowed, and blinked away tears.

“I-I’m sorry!” he cried, and stooped to hold her face in his hands. “Did I hurt you?”

Coughing, she waved her hand dismissively and wiped her mouth as she found her voice. “Cullen, it’s f–“

”I didn’t mean to do that, Carolyn. I couldn’t help myself, I –“ He shook his head.

The mage chuckled softly and rose to her feet. For a moment, she towered above him. Carolyn slowly stepped back, back, back until she was against the opposing table. She undid another one of her robe’s clasps, then another, and another until the deep purple fabric joined just above her belly button.

“If you’re so sorry,” she purred, and revealed more skin, “then you should make it up to me.”

Using the bookshelves to help him up on trembling legs, Cullen stood and kicked off his trousers and smalls. As he stepped towards her, entranced by the shadows the dancing light cast over her dark skin, Carolyn reached out and lifted his tunic to run her hands along the contours of his muscles. He kissed her eagerly and tasted himself on her lips. His mouth drifted down her throat, peppering kisses across her collarbone as he slipped her robe from her shoulders. He swore he could feel her pounding heart against his lips.

Full, dark breasts revealed, Cullen was unsure of what to do. All he wanted was to kiss her, everywhere. He left wet marks on her supple skin as he worked his way across the freckled expanse of her chest, taking a nipple between his lips and tonguing it reverently. The passionate worship of a mage’s forbidden body. Was this how the Maker felt when He first glimpsed Andraste?

Carolyn let each moan out, unashamed, as Cullen fell to his knees and moved down to her belly, her hips… She shrugged off her robe and leaned heavily against the table, then sat upon the edge. Once more, Cullen knew not what to do. And once more, his desire to kiss her everywhere drove him. She was hot and wet between his lips. He kissed her between the legs, open-mouthed as she had with him. One of Carolyn’s hands grasped the edge of the table, the other upon the back of his neck, guiding him.

Tentative flicks of his tongue and gentle kisses grew firmer, faster, more fervent as seconds turned to minutes. Carolyn nudged him with knee and hand, encouraging his keen mouth over the mound above her entrance.

“There, just there,” she panted, and her instructions were quickly swallowed by a moan, his own name mangled in the mix.

Carolyn spread her legs further apart, and Cullen stopped to plant a kiss on the rippled markings of her inner thigh before returning to his task. She brushed a curl of his blond hair aside when it fell into his face. The loving gesture struck him oddly, to be sure, but it only made his actions more feverish. The mage wrapped her legs around him, thigh muscles flexing against his jaw. Though he ached, Cullen pressed on, eager to draw out more sound of approval from her. Teasing his tongue against her entrance, sucking hard that spot she had so desperately edged him towards…

“Cullen,” she at last sighed, and when he lifted his head, Carolyn’s lips were on his.

She drew him up to his feet. His hands trembled as he clutched her legs, his cock finding sweet purchase on her thigh. He grinded against her before he could stop himself, then flushed at his own passion. As Carolyn slipped his shirt off and pulled him close, chest to chest, she spoke.

“Have you ever…?”

“No,” he confessed. Cullen considered asking her, but it really didn’t matter to him. She was a mage and he was a Templar. If that hadn’t stopped them, the number of partners she had in the past certainly wouldn’t do it.

He knew little, but he knew enough. Her entrance felt slick and hot against the head of his cock. Carolyn kissed the hollow of his throat.

“Are you sure?”

Cullen slid a little ways into her in response. He rolled his hips gently, sliding further with each slow thrust. Carolyn leaned back a bit, exposing her throat, and he kissed her there. Hands holding her hips still, the quiet slap of flesh on flesh mingling with the mage’s gasps for him to thrust harder, faster, Cullen lost himself in her. She without her robes, he without his armour – the barriers that had kept them apart broke so easily. The candle’s flame shivered with each thrust, the table groaning beneath their weight.

It took all the Templar had not to fall once more to his knees and give her worship with his mouth and his hands. 'O Creator, see me kneel: For I walk only where You bid me. Stand only in places You have blessed. Sing only the words You place in my throat.' He would never be able to read that verse of Transfigurations again without seeing Carolyn sink to her knees, or stand and undo her robes, or cry out his name as she did now.

The mage rubbed her swollen spot as he picked up speed. His own pleasure, forgotten, Cullen watched as she came undone beneath him. Back flush against the table, chest heaving, legs hooked around his tired hips, she tightened around his shaft and called out. Strangled, eyes hazy, all the words caught in her throat. And at the sight of her climax, it took only a second for Cullen to reach his. 'Oh, sweet Andraste,' the words rang like Chantry bells in his mind, but he moaned Carolyn’s name instead. At that moment, the names were indiscernible, both sweet and holy on his tongue.

Carolyn bit her lip as he pulled out of her, his seed spilling over her thighs and the rough edge of the table. As Cullen caught his breath, he checked his heart for shame. But even as he gazed over the illicit scene, this ravaged mage who could hardly stand she trembled so in the wake of their passion, he found no guilt, no embarrassment.

Carolyn’s coquettish, brown eyes met his. Between panting breaths, she asked him, “Do you… want to go… back to… bed yet?”

She sat up, and Cullen pressed his forehead to hers, noses bumping. She giggled.

“Not even if the Maker Himself ordered me back,” he panted, and the Templar kissed the mage so deeply that she slid onto her back again, both of them dizzy, still in a dream…

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Feedback is encouraged and always appreciated.


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